From the Desk of Scorpius Malfoy
by what.it.takes
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy has exactly seven items on his desk. Seven extremely important things that tell the story of his godforsaken life and the love that he's won and lost.


A/N: New one shot I got random inspiration for

Disclaimer: I do not own any of JK's characters. The plot and idea for this story are mine, however. :P

**From the Desk of Scorpius Malfoy**

Scorpius Malfoy was not by any means unorganized. Which made his desk a bit of an oddity in his prim and clean room. The rest of the room was neat and organized, nothing was left out. The walls were painted a dark green, the carpet was a pale cream color and all the furnishings were a dark, stained oak. His desk was, to say, his weak spot.

His desk only had seven things on it's surface. There were two picture frames, a tie, an envelope, a book, a necklace and a muggle pencil.

Said desk's owner stirred gently in his bed before slowly crawling out of it, the chime of the grandfather clock in his new apartment's living room telling him it was 3 am. He tread softly around the bed, careful not to stir it's other occupant before reaching the desk. He gazed at the objects for a few moments, no emotion portrayed on his face before he sank to his knees before the desk, putting his face in his hands before running them through already messy blonde hair. Piercing grey eyes gazed over the objects on the table that had come to mean his life. The pictures, he supposed, were only the beginning.

The first picture had a tall, regal looking, gorgeous blonde woman in it. Alexandrie Maddock. He sighed heavily, picking up the necklace with her family crest brooch hanging on it. It seemed like just yesterday it had been removed, replaced with his own.

"_Alexandrie, we have known each other as children, and now grown into adults. You are a respectable, well bred, pure blooded lady. I have had the pleasure of your company for many of my years, and wish to make that even more of a constant in the years to come." The blonde man got down on one knee, pulling out a large box of jewelry and opening it to show a necklace with the Malfoy family crest hanging on a brooch along with a pretty ring. _

"_Alexandrie Maddock, will you marry me?" The blonde woman gave a beautiful smile and gasped, putting a dainty hand to her chest before smoothing down her gown._

"_Of course I will, if that is your wish Mr. Malfoy." She looked at him from under her lashes, and Scorpius moved behind her and gently took off her necklace and replaced it with the one he had in the box. As he pushed her long, straight, rough hair back her couldn't help but imagine bright red waves, sunburned skin and freckles. And as Alexandrie watched him slip the ring on her finger with chocolate eyes he couldn't help but wish they were bright blue. And perhaps and he pecked her on the lips and pulled away, as she gave a soft bell like laugh, he heard an echo in his head of a short snort and a small giggle. He heard past laughs that weren't restrained or ladylike, with gasps of breathe and shrieks interspersing the laughter. But Alexandrie tugged on his hand gently, and took her place at his side as they went back inside to the social party, ready to announce their long arranged engagement. _

Scorpius gave a small half smile as he remembered their wedding day, but the thoughts of white dresses and long trails of bridesmaids brought another woman to mind, and he reluctantly turned to the second picture.

The vibrant young witch in that picture, the one that now haunted him everywhere, even his dreams. He remembered she had cut her bright red hair short that summer, to just past her chin. It loosely curled around her face, and her blue eyes had shined so brightly that day at the beach. The day he had finally got the guts to put his necklace around her, to ask her to marry him.

The thoughts of the proposals and weddings made the images rise, of Victoire and Teddy's wedding. The couple had put it off for years, and when it finally arrived it was gorgeous.

_A much younger, more alive, more handsome Scorpius strolled down the aisle, his arm snugly around Rose's waist as they followed the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, paired up, in a long line. They split up at the altar, but their eyes never left each other. _

_As Victoire and Teddy finished their vows, glowing, and kissed each other, Rose and Scorpius' eyes met. They both knew that the other was thinking of their own wedding day, sure to be in the future. Rose offered him a blinding smile which Scorpius returned in double. _

He grasped the Gryffindor tie in his hand tightly, holding his lifeline, the only thing that had preserved her warm vanilla scent. The pencil, he remembered her explaining how they were so much more convenient that quills and ink, and how she got him hooked on the strange muggle writing utensil. The book had been a fun, new idea they had. To write down every single thought they had in a single day and then to switch the books at the end of the day. It was hers, his was stuffed somewhere deep inside the desk. It had been his which had started their end.

"_Scorp?" The blonde looked up to see his fiancé standing in the doorway, her lip trembling. She was clad in an oversized shirt, and one arm was wrapped around her middle. The other was holding his book of thoughts. The book in which he had continued to write in, as he found it got rid of his emotional overloading, and rid him of some of the guilt. _

"_Is this true?" Her soft voice broke halfway through, and he could see a single tear slip down her cheek. He knew very well what she was speaking of. Scorpius had gone against his parents' wishes in being in a relationship with Rose. The thing was, they didn't know he was still with her. To them, he was with Alexandria. It was Alexandria who wore his __**real**__ necklace, Rose's was a copy. It was Alexandria who he would be married to in the next few months, and Alexandria who was currently pregnant. Rose was fun and wonderful and loving and quirky and fiery and passionate and Scorpius had loved her, but he often wondered when it had all ended for him. When he stopped liking those things, and instead found him wishing her to be a doting, quiet, obedient wife like his parents had taught him he would end up with. That was exactly what Alexandria was. He nodded simply, closing off his face so she might not see how he wanted her to stay, how badly he wished to rekindle their fire. She bit her lip and nodded, moving from the room silently. He followed her quietly, watching as she went into her room, separate from his as it had been for the past few months, and waved her wand, packing up her things with the one motion and throwing on a pair of pants and a pair of flats before apparating away with her things. He stood their for a moment before lying on her empty bed, still warm from where she had slept, still smelling like vanilla, and let the gnawing emptiness in himself eat his mind and soul._

He knew, now. He knew so many more things than he had ever known then. He knew that you had to be vicious to get to his position as the new Minister of Magic, that you had to fight to earn anything in life, especially a reputation. He knew that he had the perfect life any pureblood could lead.

He knew that there would always be tea and toast ready for him at the table early in the morning, right before he went in for work. He knew he would have a wife waiting at home with a clean house and respectful children. He knew dinner would be ready, that he would go to bed and have a woman ready and waiting for him, to attend to his needs. He knew that his wife would leave the room without complaint if he wanted his mistress instead of her. And most of all, Scorpius Malfoy knew he was a miserable, dead shell of the person he used to be.

He remembered the glorious days of Hogwarts, hanging out with Al, spending cold nights by the fire with Rose, and being innocent from the hate and judgment of the world. Scorpius longed for the days when he could feel and think, when his actions were free and his decisions rash, when he could be who he wanted to. He longed to feel the passion, love, fire that he had felt with Rose once. The passion that he had long forsaken, for it was a devil and a traitor.

But Scorpius lived every day, simply going through the motions, though his mind was always on the woman he never got to marry, the son and daughter her was never able to meet. The family that had been torn apart by himself. And when he makes speeches, or public appearances and swears he sees a flash of red go by he always looks. Just in case. And he never knows what he would really do if it was her, if he would say something, or if he would simply stand there, cowardly transfixed.

And how many nights did he wonder if it was simple ignorance and idiocy that had made him feel that passion was love, and that love had left Rose and himself. How, he often wondered, did he ever leave what may not have been the ideal pureblood life, but what would have certainly been a much happier life.

And when his children look at him, he knows they do not love him. He knows they simply like him, as children often do to adults who give them things and shoo them off with money and gifts. He knows as they grow they will leave him and their all too weak mother, that they may very likely grow to hate him. And he dreams of being there when Rose gave birth to the twins, by Godric, he didn't even get to know their names. He dreams of being a doting, adoring, loving father and of spending vacations with them, and playing Quidditch in the backyard and having fun. He dreams of Rose and himself having a few more kids, and having a full, loud, loving household where everything might not always be perfect, but it would be right.

So when Scorpius hears his wife whisper to him as he slips back into bed,

"I'm pregnant again." He rolls over and slips his arms around her, a hand resting on her stomach where he can feel a slight bulge. He kisses her neck and falls asleep, promising to try and be half the dad, half the husband that he knew he could've been for Rose because Alexandria and his children deserved at least that. At least.

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